Say Good Night
by MyDearestObsession
Summary: Eleven years have passed since George Weasley has seen his friend Amelia Rotherton. But when she does reappear in his life, she brings her tangled emotions and a surprise he hadn't counted on. ONE-SHOT. GeorgeOC


Story Notes:

I don't own Harry Potter or any of the related characters, places, etc. Anything recognizable belongs to Jo Rowling and her publishers. Anything you don't recognize probably belongs to me and I'd appreciate it if you contacted me if you want to use my characters or just didn't use them, period. And I don't mean to infringe on any copyrights.

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Say Good Night

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It was coming on five o'clock in the evening and it was time to close the shop. George walked outside, flipping the sign from "Open" to "Closed" and staring absentmindedly down Diagon Alley as the sun began to set behind Gringott's bank. Close to eleven long years had passed without his twin; it had been almost that long since he'd seen his brother's girlfriend and his own close friend, Amelia Rotherton. George Weasley shook his head and continued to stack the tables he had set up outside the store for the summer sale. That was when he heard the voices.

"Come on, mum, please? You said we could stop in if we had time…" The young boy's voice trailed off.

George half turned to look at the two – three, he corrected himself, noting the girl by her mother's side. The mother, not much older than him, grabbed hold of her son's wrist as he took off towards the shop. "No, Fred, we don't have time. We'll miss the bus back home," she said, glancing up worriedly in George's direction. "Come on. Maybe next time." She smoothed a lock of chestnut colored hair back behind her ear.

"Aw, mum, you _always_ say that," the boy whined, twisting away from his mother and sprinting towards the joke shop.

"Frederick George Rotherton, get back here this instant!" his mother called after him, her face blossoming into a brilliant shade of pink as the boy drew closer to George.

"Hi," said the boy breathlessly. "Are you still open? Mum never lets me come here – I don't see why… " He continued babbling as George stared down at a miniature version of himself in shock. "Hey, mister - " He didn't get to finish his sentence; his mother had caught up with him at this point, grasping his shoulder and pulling him back towards her.

"I'm sorry," she began. "We really should be going…" Her daughter stood shyly behind her mother, looking up at him. "Mummy, he looks like Fred," she whispered, just loud enough for George to hear.

"Amelia?" Guilt washed over the woman's features. "Amelia Rotherton? Is that really you? By God, it's been too long!" George cried, enveloping her in a hug.

"You know him, mum?" Fred asked, looking from one to the other as they broke apart.

"I went to school with him," Amelia replied stiffly. "Come on, we'll have to catch a later bus. Oh, Lacy will have dinner laid out and everything," she fretted. "It'll be cold by the time we get back…"

"Nonsense," George said. "Why don't you stay and have dinner with me? I haven't seen you since -"

"I know how long it's been, George," Amelia snapped, cutting him off. She glanced down at her watch and then towards the setting sun. With a sigh, she said, "But we might as well stay. It _has_ been far too long."

George lifted the tables and carried them back into the shop. "Why don't you three go ahead upstairs? I'll finish cleaning up down here and be right up. I hope you don't mind leftovers; it's all I've really got to offer," he finished apologetically.

"No, no, it's fine. Fred, Flannery, go upstairs and wash up, all right? I'll be up in a moment." She gave the two children a gentle push in the direction of the staircase she knew led to the apartment above the shop. She watched until they were out of sight and then turned to George. "I don't know," she said, and the question he had just been about to ask died in his throat. "There's no way to tell whether they're yours or-or…_his_. That's the trouble with twins." Amelia looked away and absentmindedly began to straighten a shelf.

"But what about a Paternity Potion?" George persisted. "Wouldn't that - ?"

Amelia shook her head. "No. For all intents and purposes, George, the two of you are essentially the same person." She sighed. "Look, does it really matter? I've managed for the past eleven years all right."

George felt his face flush. "Of _course_ it matters, Amelia! If they're my kids – hell, even if they're _Fred's_ -" Amelia flinched at the sound of the name. "- I feel like they're my responsibility. Why didn't you write? Why didn't you say anything? Some father _I_'ve been," he muttered. "Why did you leave?"

"Because," Amelia answered, not turning around. "Because you look so much like him; because I saw him in you in everything you did; because it hurt; because I felt guilty…" She ticked off the reasons on her fingers. "I-I didn't know until after I left, though," she added as an afterthought. "I know you aren't…Fred," she continued slowly, "and I couldn't stay on and compare you to him."

George sighed. _'Typical Amelia,'_ he thought. "Come on, let's head upstairs. If your son's anything like his namesake, he's probably got the whole apartment trashed by now."

Amelia smiled sadly. "Not likely. I haven't heard any sounds of destruction; whatever he gets himself into, it's usually quite noisy."

George returned the smile and led Amelia up the stairs to the apartment. "Nothing's changed, really. I still have your things. The ones you left when you – after – yeah," he finished lamely. "D'you want it all back?"

Amelia shrugged. "I guess so. I guess I should probably introduce you to them, too." She followed George into the apartment and drank in the familiar atmosphere.

Fred and Flannery were sitting quietly on the couch, staring at the photographs on the wall: Fred and George; Fred and Amelia; George and Amelia…her whole life must have been on that wall. Amelia cleared her throat, interrupting the twins' thoughts. "Fred…Flannery…this is George. George Weasley," she began haltingly. "He's a-a friend of mine from school."

Fred beamed; Flannery offered George a small smile and a shy "hello" before resuming staring at her shoes.

Amelia was about to say something more when George rescued her. "Hey, why don't you two help me set the table for dinner?" he suggested; the twins scrambled off the couch and into the kitchen. "Your things are in your room, in the closet," he said, turning to Amelia. "They have to be at King's Cross tomorrow, don't they?" At Amelia's nod, he continued, "Then you can send a letter to Lacy – or whoever's at home – and have their trunks brought here. There's no sense in you trying to take the Knight Bus home this late at night or you trying to Apparate with them; just spend the night here. No 'buts'," he said firmly, forestalling Amelia's protestations. "We haven't seen each other in over a decade, Amelia. If you leave, I'm never going to see you again, am I?"

Amelia looked away, unable to meet George's gaze any longer. Before George could say anything further, she spun on her heel and walked away, closing the door to her old room behind her.

Aside from the owl dozing sleepily in the far corner by the window, the room was virtually unchanged. Amelia sank down onto the bed, running her fingers absentmindedly over the embroidered coverlet. Her stomach churned as thoughts of Fred and George tumbled through her mind – there was no denying that for the amount of time that had passed without both of them, she was still in love with the twins. She twisted the silver-and-turquoise ring on her finger, remembering the day that Fred had given it to her.

_"Where are you going?" she asked, snuggling closer to him. __  
_

_"I'm not sure. All I know is that I can't stay here any longer. That toad-woman is terrible, Amelia. Stay out of her way," Fred said, brushing a stray lock of brown hair out of her eyes. __  
_

_"I'm doing the best I can." Amelia made a noise that sounded like a cross between a growl and a sigh. "She infuriates me with all her stupid little rules and talk of the Ministry. If I had any kind of talent as a witch other than those ruddy cards, I'd get myself a job there and clean out the whole bloody mess." __  
_

_Fred laughed. "You're a brilliant witch – you're in Ravenclaw, after all. You don't get into Ravenclaw on looks alone." __  
_

_Amelia sighed. "Yes, I know that. That still doesn't help me figure out what I'm going to do after school." __  
_

_"We've discussed this, Amelia," Fred told her gently. "You're going to work for George and me at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. We'll buy a house somewhere and raise dozens of little Weasleys…" __  
_

_"Yes, yes, that's all well and good, but…I don't know, Fred. I love you, honestly, but…you're leaving now. How do I know you'll be back? How do I know this isn't some clever ruse to ditch me so you can get on with your life?" Amelia asked, worry creeping into her voice as all the fears she had been harboring came to light. "You won't even tell me where you're going -" __  
_

_"So that woman can't make you tell her. We're going out in style, Amelia. God knows she'd like nothing more than to drag us back and have Filch clap us in shackles or something just as dreadful. I won't have you punished for something you weren't a part of – you're too bright for something like this. D'you want more than my word that I'll be waiting for you on that platform?" Fred asked, sounding slightly hurt. __  
_

_"No, no, I never meant – I – oh, forget it," Amelia stammered, at a loss for words. __  
_

_"Then take this," Fred said, slipping a slender band of silver around one of her fingers. "It's a promise ring – a Muggle tradition of sorts. It means that I'll be back for you, no matter what. Once I have enough money, I'll marry you, Amelia. We're both of age. Well, almost. Look, we'd better head back inside. It's already past curfew and if she catches us together, I'll never get out of here. Or I'll just have to take you with me – which I'm _not_ doing under any circumstances. You'll finish out your year here with no complaints, understood?" __  
_

_Amelia sighed, twisting the ring on her finger. "All right, but I still think I should come with you," she replied reluctantly. __  
_

_Fred kissed her forehead. "Good girl. I'll see you in the morning," he said, slipping away._

Amelia stood and crossed the room to the closet. As George had promised, the box was there, along with everything she'd left behind. It wasn't much – mainly robes that she'd probably never fit into again. At the bottom, she found a collection of notes belonging to both her and Fred that documented their correspondence throughout their Hogwarts years. She shifted through them, blinking back tears. "Found those with his things," George said from the doorway, startling Amelia. "The envelope in there's everything I owe you. He gave you a cut of the profits from the store," he explained. "It was in his will. The rest of the stuff is from the will, too. Oh, dinner's on the table."

Amelia stood and brushed the dust off her robes. "Thank you. I'll be out as soon as I send that letter to Lacy," she replied.

"Parchment's in the desk. Watch out for Maestro – he bites when he's woken up," George warned.

Amelia nodded. "I'll remember that." George withdrew as she began rummaging in the desk for parchment, quill, and ink. Several minutes later, she sent the grumpy owl on his way, nursing a rather nasty looking cut across her knuckles. "Episkey," she muttered, healing the wound before finally emerging for dinner.

Dinner was, to say the least, an awkward affair. Amelia kept quiet for her part, ignoring George's furtive glances in her direction and resisting the urge to jump up and scream, "Look, I'm not going to disappear!" George managed to keep up a steady stream of conversation with Fred and Flannery throughout most of the meal. After they were done, George took the twins down to the shop to let them look around and then out into the street where they played a game of tag while Amelia cleaned up. She went about it almost automatically; she'd done this so many times, it was practically second nature. As she stacked the dishes in the cupboard, she half-expected Fred's arm to come snaking around her waist and to feel his lips on her neck as had happened so many times in the past. She shook her head, effectively banishing the memory for the time being and sending several more strands of hair flying loose from her bun.

Soon after she had finished, Fred came pounding up the stairs two at a time, followed by George carrying a sleepy Flannery. Amelia smiled at the sight of the three. "D'you want your old bedroom tonight?" George asked, shifting Flannery into a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter." Amelia shrugged. "If you want to put them in there, I'll take the couch."

George shook his head. "Nah, I'll put them in my room and you can have yours. I'll sleep on the couch." Before Amelia could object, he carried Flannery into the bedroom while Fred trailed behind, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Amelia wandered through the apartment, straightening a photograph here or an odd-looking instrument there. She jumped a little when George came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "They're good kids," he said quietly, letting her go and reaching for the radio.

"I know," she replied, moving to sit down on the couch. She sank down onto the cushions with a sigh. "It's been hard."

George joined her shortly, handing her a mug of coffee. "For you or for them?" he questioned.

"For me. God, I don't know how you've managed to keep from going insane…" Her voice trailed off and she stared down at the dark liquid in her cup, then drained it.

"It helps if you have a head start," George said dryly, eliciting a chuckle from Amelia. "So, you wanna tell me what you've been doing all this time?" he asked, suddenly turning serious. "I spent eight years looking for you. You just disappeared."

Amelia shifted uncomfortably. "I've been living with Izzy," she confessed finally. "I found a job as a fortune teller. The Muggles loved it. It was all right, except for the dreams. And people thinking I was a quack. But it paid the bills just fine."

Silence descended over the pair. George finally spoke up, breaking it. "Neville tried to get you a job. Trelawney wanted to retire, so he figured you'd be a shoe-in for her job," he said. "You'd be marvelous at it. Much better than Trelawney, anyway."

"Not likely," Amelia scoffed. "I would've had to've given up watching my children grow up. And besides," she continued, "how awkward would it be for them to be my students? They don't want to learn anything from me."

"Saves the trouble of setting up a parent-teacher conference." George shrugged. "They didn't seem to mind me telling them about the joke shop, either."

"W-well, that's different!" Amelia stammered. "And you aren't their father!"

"But you don't know that for sure!" George shot back, his voice rising. "They're either Fred's or mine, and I'm hurt that you didn't tell me about them! I could've helped you take care of them – I could've taken care of _you_! _Eleven years_, Amelia – that's how much time I've missed with them! God, even if they're only my niece and nephew, I still feel some responsibility for them! And what about the rest of my family? Didn't tell Mum she's got grandkids, did you?"

"You're talking as if I'm going to be hanging around forever – well, I'm not!" Amelia burst into tears. "I-I'm s-sorry," she sobbed. "I just…I-I see…_him_ every time I look at-at y-you. I can't get o-over it - "

"Amelia…I'm his _twin_," George said, gritting his teeth. "D'you think it hasn't hurt me? Look at me – he made me promise to take care of you if anything happened to him. I've done a lousy job of it so far and I want to fix it." He took her hand and squeezed it. "Marry me, Amelia. You can be a part of our family again. Fred and Flannery can meet their cousins and grow up knowing their father. If my guess is correct, you didn't tell them anything, did you?"

That did it. With a strangled sob, Amelia wrenched her hand from his and bolted for the steps. She dashed downstairs into the shop and tore the door open, causing the bell to jingle madly.

George crossed the room quickly and entered Amelia's old bedroom, throwing the French doors open and stepping out onto the small balcony. "Amelia!" he called. "Amelia, come back!"

She ignored him and ran on and was soon lost amongst the growing shadows. Moments later, he heard a small _pop_ and cursed inwardly; she'd Disapparated. She could be anywhere at this point. Another thought struck him and his stomach turned; she couldn't have abandoned her children here, expecting him to take care of them…

'_No,'_ the rational part of his mind soothed, _'Amelia wouldn't do that. She loves them too much. She'll be back once she's calmed down.'_

George went back into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch with a sigh. His mind began turning, thinking of places Amelia could have gone. He immediately ruled out the Burrow and Izzy's place as too obvious; that left only one place – his brother's grave. George shook his head sadly. _'When did Fred become the one that she turned to?'_ he asked himself angrily. _'Still…I can't leave the twins here by themselves. Amelia would never forgive me for that.'_

There was a _crack_ behind him and he turned, half-expecting Amelia to be standing there. Instead, a house elf sat perched on two school trunks. "Miss Flannery's and Master Fred's things," she said in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. "Where's Miss Amelia?"

"Er, um, Lacy, right?" George stammered. "She ran off. I…upset her quite a bit, I imagine. Could you stay with Flannery and Fred while I go look for her?"

If looks could kill, George would have been stricken on the spot as the house elf glared at him. "Shouldn't hurt Miss Amelia," Lacy said in a low voice, shaking her finger at George. "Go bring her back. Go!"

George hurried down the steps, resisting the urge to laugh at the house elf standing there with her ears flapping comically, ordering him to bring her mistress back. He grabbed two cloaks, one for himself and one for Amelia; it was summer, but the nights were growing colder and she'd left without one, after all…He closed his eyes and fought back the memories, the memories he'd buried after she'd left. He'd always been the one to take care of her, even when she tried so hard to take care of him.

_Amelia paced about the kitchen like a caged lion. She'd already exhausted Mrs. Weasley's supply of flour and washed the dishes, twice. Baked goods lined the counter so that not an inch of the woodwork could be seen. The rest of the kitchen had been cleaned within an inch of its life. A pit of fear burned coldly in her stomach; they should've been back by now…_

_Suddenly, the kitchen was filled with Hagrid's large bulk. Amelia stood and pointed her wand at Harry's chest. "Your card," she demanded coldly._

_Harry swallowed hard. "Death," he said._

_Amelia lowered her wand and crossed to the sink, staring out the window at the darkness. "You didn't meet anyone on the way, did you?" she asked even though she knew the answer already._

"_No," Harry replied. "Are we – are we the first ones back?"_

"_Yes." Amelia wrung the dishrag out for the umpteenth time and emptied the dirty water down the drain. "The others should have been back by now."_

_There was a slight scuffle as two new bodies appeared in the kitchen. Amelia again drew her wand and aimed it at one of the two. "Your card, Professor Lupin," she asked._

"_The Moon," he answered, struggling under the weight of his companion._

_Amelia turned to the other. "Your-" she began, then stopped, staring at George's pale face. "What happened?"_

"_The Fool," George said softly._

"_He lost an ear – Snape's doing," Lupin explained hastily as Amelia took over._

_Amelia swore under her breath, her heart threatening to burst then and there. She guided George into the sitting room and onto one of the couches. Blood poured freely from the wound; she pressed a rag to it feebly. _'It isn't as bad as it seems,' _she told herself. _'Head wounds always bleed superficially.' _She began running through spells in her head, trying to think of one that would successfully reattach the ear._

_George stirred and grasped her hand. "It's fine," he said. "Don't need it anyway."_

_Fred came up behind her – Amelia hadn't even heard him come in – and pulled her away. "Come on; let Mum handle it, love. He'll be all right," he soothed her gently. "Let's go back to the kitchen and wait for the others."_

_Amelia cast one more glance over her shoulder before allowing Fred to lead her out. Later that night, after things had calmed down and Fred had fallen asleep, Amelia crept back downstairs and into the sitting room. George looked up at her from his nest of cushions and blankets – forced on him by his mother – and tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down. "You should be asleep," she admonished gently._

"_Yeah, what about you?" George shot back._

_Amelia sighed. "I couldn't sleep. Too much happened today. I wanted to see if you needed anything," she said. "Are you all right?"_

"_I'm fine," George answered. "Go to sleep, Amelia; there's no sense in worrying yourself sick over me."_

_But Amelia refused to budge. "Are you sure? You're not thirsty or anything? You don't need something for the pain?"_

"_What pain? It's hardly a scratch." George grinned. "Go back to bed, love, I'm all right. I can manage until morning."_

_Amelia finally bowed her head in defeat. "All right, I'm going. Good night, George."_

"_Good night, Amelia." George watched her retreating back, thanking his lucky stars that he was a good liar. His ear really did hurt him; however, it didn't hurt him quite as much as his heart did, and he knew there wasn't a pain potion in the world that could make this kind of hurt go away._

Amelia appeared in the middle of a village square, breathing heavily, as if she'd just run several miles. She fell to her knees, grateful that she hadn't Splinched; her mind was churning and it was a wonder she'd been able to focus long enough to get herself to this point. She waited until her breathing slowed, then pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the tiny graveyard just off the square.

It was hard to see in the dark, but Amelia knew where to go. She had come this way so many times before, usually on Fred's birthday or the anniversary of his death, but often when she felt that life was just too much to bear. She made her way to a grave in the back, marked by a pale grey stone that seemed to shine in the moonlight. She knelt next to the stone and put her arms around it. "Fred," she whispered, "I need to talk to you."

The wind blew gently in response and she felt a cool hand on her shoulder. "Amelia," he said gently, "you've got to stop doing this."

It was not the greeting she expected. Amelia released the marker and turned around, lurching to her feet. "What do you mean?" she asked. Her mouth fell open at the sight of him; she held a hand up to cover it. "Oh, Fred…"

Fred smiled sadly, his familiar face lined in pain that looked like it had been years in the making. "Yeah, love, it hurts. I never thought that death could hurt as much as life did; everyone I've talked to has said that pain ceases when the body stops functioning, but that's where I'm different," he said.

Amelia's brow furrowed. "How are you different? It doesn't make sense," she replied, confused.

"They've all moved on, love. They've gone on to whatever's waiting beyond those gates," Fred answered, gesturing to the gates of the graveyard. "I can't."

"Well, that's silly. It's just the village. And it isn't haunted – I would know," said Amelia, crossing her arms.

Fred chuckled. "No, they're not in the village. I don't know where it'll take me, but I know it's not into the village. I just know that they haven't come back when they leave, so whatever it is, it must be good."

"Well, why can't you leave like they did?" Amelia asked. "Maybe they just don't want to come back."

Fred looked wistfully towards the gates. "I wish I could, love, but I can't," he said. He looked at her again, his blue gaze piercing her heart. "You're holding me back."

Amelia's eyes widened and she uttered an involuntary gasp. "B-but…how?"

"You haven't let me go yet. Even George has stopped coming around except for twice a year. You're here all the time, wanting me to solve your problems just like I did when I was alive. It isn't the same anymore, Amelia. I can't do anything for you like this," Fred told her.

A knife twisted in Amelia's gut at his words. Tears sprang to her eyes. "I miss you," she murmured. "I don't want you to go…"

"I miss you, too," came Fred's reply. "But you've got to let me go. Amelia, you've got someone else who cares for you at least as much as I did – and still do – and perhaps even more. At first, he came around because he missed me, too, but eventually he realized I wasn't coming back and so he started coming here to wait for you. You're in good hands, love. Just go with him and let me go. Please," he pleaded with her. "I can't stay forever. You see how much it's hurting me now; imagine what it'll be like in a few more years."

Amelia buried her head in her hands and burst into tears. "I'm so, so sorry," she sobbed. "I had no idea."

"I would've told you, if you'd stayed," came another familiar voice from beside her. A strong, comforting arm wrapped itself around her shoulders and held her close.

Amelia looked up. "George? Merlin, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run out on you. Are the twins all right?" she asked.

George wrapped a cloak around her and nodded. "They're all right; Lacy's with them."

"See what I mean?" Fred said kindly, smiling. "You'll be fine without me, Amelia."

Amelia took a deep, steadying breath and kept her eyes on George as she answered, "Then go. You're right. I'll be fine. Maybe not right away…" Her voice trailed off and George squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"You'll get there," Fred told her. He walked closer to her and bent his head to whisper in her ear. "I'll be waiting for you," he murmured.

And then he was gone.

Amelia's knees threatened to buckle, but George steadied her, wrapping her in his arms again and holding her as close as he could. "Come on, love; let's go home," he said.

"I think I like the sound of that," Amelia replied, smiling up at him through her tears. "Yeah, let's go home."

--

Fin

--

A/N: Okay, tell me what you think. I'm my own worst critic, so I could tell you exactly what I think of it, but I won't. I found this little piece when I was sorting through my files this morning. It was unfinished and I needed something to do, so I finished it. Instead of doing laundry. Anyway, it was supposed to be a part of another story I was working on, but that story changed drastically and there just wasn't room for it. So please review and leave love, all that good stuff!

Oh, I forgot to add that Amelia has the Sight, if you couldn't guess. She reads tarot spreads and dreams about what's going to happen based on the reading. It's hard to explain properly, so that's why I ditched the idea in the other story and this became a stand-alone-type thing.

MyDearestObsession


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